Psychic Flashes
by Nixa Jane
Summary: A series of one-shots written for the Psych Flashfic challenge on LiveJournal. Some will be Gen and some Shawn/Lassiter slash.
1. The Message is in the Medium

Challenge: Message

Warning: Shawn/Lassiter.

* * *

The Message is in the Medium

**This is how it started: **

"You know what would be really nice, Spencer?" Lassiter had yelled. "If just once, you could help us with a case without all your juvenile theatrics, or even better, without actually _being here at all_."

Shawn had taken it as the challenge it clearly was.

**8:07 AM: Outside Carlton Lassiter's House**

Lassiter stopped and stared at the windshield of his car. A piece of notepad paper had been stuck underneath one of the windshield wipers. He pulled it out, and recognized Shawn's handwriting with a kind of long-suffering frustration.

_I brought you coffee and a scone (fighting one cop stereotype at a time!) Have a nice day! _

_Oh, by the way, I already solved your case. _

Lassiter tore it up with a frown. He opened the door and there was a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee in his cupholder, a small white paper bag rolled up beside it. He opened it and found a half-eaten scone. Lassiter sat down in a huff and ripped off a piece of the scone, chewing resentfully.

Well, the joke was on Spencer. He didn't even have a case.

**8:23 AM: The Santa Barbara Police Station**

"We have a case!" Juliet told him, before he even reached his desk. Lassiter had a bad feeling already.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"There was burglary, and now we've got a missing—"

"Missing persons case?" Lassiter asked interestedly. "What's the description?"

"Um…" Juliet looked uncertain. "Name's Molly. About a foot high. Grey. _Adorable_."

Lassiter froze. "Come again?"

"It's a miniature schnauzer," Juliet explained.

"It's a dog-napping!" Buzz said helpfully.

Lassiter resisted the urge to slam his head onto his desk. Usually he'd be able to pass this case off on someone else, but with Vick and a number of other detectives gone at a conference, the entire force was short staffed.

"Alright, well, I want to speak with the owners, I think—" Lassiter trailed off as he caught sight of the hot pink post-it that had been stuck to his computer monitor. He squinted at it.

_It was the dog-walker. He totally did it. _

_P.S. That tie you're wearing really brings out your eyes. :-) _

Lassiter pressed his eyes shut for a moment in irritation. "O'Hara, do they have a dog-walker?"

"As a matter of fact they do," she said excitedly. "You think he's involved?"

"It's just my luck that he will be," Lassiter said.

**9:34 AM: Interrogation Room B**

Lassiter had Buzz pick up Dale Michaels, the dog-walker, and drop him off in the interrogation room. He was about five five, glasses, spiky hair. He was sitting calmly waiting for Lassiter when he came in the room, with his back to the mirror, so he was entirely oblivious to the spiraling red cursive that had been written all across it.

Lassiter glared as he read it.

_It's because he was sleeping with the wife. Ask him about her and he'll break down and start crying like a little girl. _

Lassiter sighed. "Mr. Michaels," he said, "were you having an affair with Mrs. Kline?"

Dale's expression faltered, and tears sprang instantly to his eyes. "We're in love!" he said instantly. "She tried to say we weren't, but we are!"

Lassiter pinched the bridge of his nose to try and hold off a headache. "What did you do with the dog?"

Dale started to sob. "I don't know! I panicked! I left it somewhere," he said pitifully. "I just wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me."

Lassiter crossed his arms with a sigh and glared at Shawn's writing on the mirror. Dale turned around suspiciously. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

When he saw the note written on the mirror, he started crying even harder.

**9:48 AM: Carlton Lassiter's Desk**

"I can't believe he solved the case on a post-it," Juliet said in awe.

Lassiter glared at her. "We're not finished yet," he said. "We still need to find the dog."

"Um, this might help," Buzz said, and pulled over one of the white boards they used to arrange evidence. "I found it like this."

There was a picture of a little cartoon dog sitting with a bow around its neck beside a desk, a little text bubble by its head that said, (Rescue me, Lassie! For you have a trustworthy name!).

"Where is he?" Lassiter demanded, looking around the station. "Seriously? No one's seen him all day?"

Everyone shook their heads, and then scattered in fear. Lassiter resisted the urge to punch the white board. "How does this help us?" Lassiter demanded. "It's a desk. It could be anywhere."

"The fish!" Juliet said excitedly, pointing to a strange misshapen drawing of a fish that was sitting on the surface of the desk. "That's the fish on Chief Vick's desk!"

Juliet and Lassiter ran to the office. Molly was curled up asleep in a new doggie bed all freshly groomed, a bright red bow tied around her neck, a new leash attached to the leg of a chair. There was a water and food bowl near by, each with 'Molly' written carefully on it in puff paint.

Lassiter sighed as Juliet rushed to pick the dog up, smothering it instantly with kisses. "He actually did it!" she said happily. "He solved the case without even being seen!"

"I give up," Lassiter said.

**5:39 PM: Carlton Lassiter's House**

Lassiter's day hadn't gotten much better after closing the dog-napping case. The owners had come to pick up the dog, refused to press charges, and promised to work on their marriage for Molly's sake. Then Lassiter had spent the rest of his day doing paperwork usually done by the Chief, and trying to figure out how to write his report in way that would adequately explain how the case had been solved via post-it.

He went to his kitchen, wanting to just grab a nice chilled V-8 to settle down and watch _America's Most Wanted,_ and there was a note stuck to his fridge with a pineapple magnet that wasn't his.

_Hi, Lassie. _

_Turn around. _

Lassiter spun around, and Shawn was leaning against the counter grinning. "Hey, honey, how was your day?"

Lassiter grabbed him and tugged him close. "You know exactly how my day's been," he snapped.

Shawn grinned brightly. "I only did what you asked," he said. "You know I always try my best to oblige you."

"Don't do it again," Lassiter told him. "I changed my mind. I want you where I can keep an eye on you."

Shawn grinned, and leaned forward to kiss him. "Deal," he said.

Lassiter kissed him back, and then pulled slightly away, shaking his head. "You drive me nuts," he said. "You solved my case before I even knew I had a case and then wrote it down on a post-it. You were here with me all night, you were here sleeping when I left this morning, how the hell did you do it?"

Shawn smiled brightly. "That," he said, "would be telling."

**Earlier that day: **

Shawn hit his Gus speed-dial, and started speaking urgently the moment his friend picked up. "Gus, dude! Some guy just shoved a dog out of a car in front of the Starbucks!"

"What are you doing at Starbucks, Shawn?" Gus demanded. "It's like six in the morning."

"I was going to surprise Lassie with some coffee—wait, look, you're kind of missing the point here," Shawn said. "What should I do?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Gus demanded. "These things only happen to you."

Shawn hung up the call and kneeled down in front of the dog. "Let's find out where you're from, shall we?" he asked, reaching out to read the collar.

"And then maybe we should get you a hair cut," Shawn said. "Your hair is horrible."


	2. It's Not Goodbye If You Don't Say It

Challenge: Pre-Series

Warning: None.

* * *

It's Not Goodbye If You Don't Say It

-

When Gus first met Shawn in kindergarten, Shawn convinced him that he was an exchange student from Tibet. He claimed the monks had all sent him away because he talked too much. Gus had believed him the same way he still half-believed all of the crazy lies that Shawn told: it was more fun that way.

x x x x x x

When Gus leaves for college, Shawn leaves at the same time. The only difference is that Gus had weeks of long goodbyes and two going away parties, while no one even knew Shawn was leaving until he was gone.

His first week of college is spent mostly fielding phone calls from his parents and from Henry. It makes sense they think he knows something. Whenever Shawn goes missing, wherever Gus is tends to be the best first place to look.

The only problem is that the last time Gus saw Shawn he was bright and happy and giving him a salute, supposedly driving his motorcycle home, though from all accounts he never got there. Henry tells him that Shawn only took the clothes on his back. Henry still thinks he's planning on coming back, but Gus knows Shawn too well. If he'd only been doing this for the effect he would have packed.

Three days later he gets a phone call from Shawn, like nothing's wrong at all. "Hey, how's college?" he asks.

"How's college?" Gus yells. "My college life thus far has consisted only of freaking out because you've gone _missing_. Where are you, Shawn?"

"Wow, 'thus far'?" Shawn echoes. "I think college is having a better effect on you than you realize. You sound snobbier already."

"Shawn, I'm not even kidding," Gus tells him. "You tell me where you are right now or I will come and I will find you."

"That would be scarier coming from pretty much anyone else," Shawn says. "A twelve-year-old girl, even. You couldn't even find Waldo in third grade."

"You need to let that go," Gus snaps. "I only couldn't find him because you'd colored in a mustache on every single Waldo in the book."

Shawn laughed. "I forgot about that," he says, sounding impressed with himself. "That took me all recess."

"Stop—stop distracting me," Gus says. "Just tell me where you are."

"I'll tell you this much," Shawn says. "If my dad calls, I'm with my mother."

"You don't think he'd just call her and find out you're not?" Gus demands.

"No, he wouldn't call her," Shawn says. "He's scared to face her. So the best way to keep him from doing something crazy like reporting me missing is to tell him I'm there. I know you've got a thing about lying, but this is better for everyone."

"How exactly?" Gus snaps. "Where are you going to go?"

"It's not the destination, Gus, it's the journey," Shawn says. "Your guess is as good as mine where I'm going to end up."

Gus sits down on his bed as it starts to sink in that there will be no seeing Shawn on the weekends, no seeing him when he goes home for Christmas, no seeing him at all. "You should come back," Gus says, but he knows it's useless, even before he hears himself say it.

"To what? To work at Suncoast Video and live with Henry? We'd kill each other," Shawn says. "Honestly I'm surprised we lasted as long as we did."

"You could have gotten into any college you wanted," Gus protests.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't want any of them," Shawn says. "College is your thing, Gus."

"And what's your thing?" Gus asks.

"I'm still looking for mine," Shawn tells him. "Now, let's rehearse, repeat after me: oh, hi, Henry, why yes, I did hear from Shawn, he's staying with his mother, he says hi, he promises to write."

"You're not going to write him," Gus says.

"So I'm improvising, use your imagination," Shawn says. "I'll send him a postcard or something. You too."

"Oh, that's big of you, where will you find the time?" Gus demands. "Come home, Shawn."

"Why do you want me to?" Shawn asks. "You're not even there."

"Then come here," Gus says.

"When I said I didn't want to go to college, I kind of meant that to mean yours, too," Shawn says. "Anyway I think it's going to be good for you to be away from me for awhile."

"Don't say that," Gus says.

"What? I just meant that I'm so charming and brilliant I've been overshadowing you," Shawn says wryly. "Now it's your time to shine."

"Yeah, right," Gus says. "Just be careful, Shawn. I want you to call me, once a week, at least, you got it? If you don't I'm going to tell Henry you're not at your mother's and he's going to come looking for you."

"Yeah, okay, fine, but let me leave you with a little advice, don't get a 4.0," Shawn tells him. "Get a B once and awhile. Live a little."

"Words of wisdom, from Shawn Spencer," Gus says. "You should write a book."

"That's on my list," Shawn says. "Right above lion tamer and right below professional bungee jumper. Actually, I think it's time for me to get started on crossing things off, and also I'm out of quarters and the payphone is about to—"

"Shawn!" Gus shouts. "Shawn, you said you were going to be careful!"

The dial-tone is the only answer. Gus tries the redial but no one answers.

Henry calls again later that night. Gus breaks out into a sweat but he lies just like Shawn asked him to. He knows it's for the best.

After all, Shawn's the one that taught him how much better some lies are than the truth. So he knows he owes him just this one in return.

x x x x x x

Three weeks later Gus gets a postcard in the mail from Tibet. All it says is: _Still looking. Also, I think I'm kind of psychic. Monks really do think I talk too much._

And even as his heart aches, Gus realizes Shawn is going to be just fine.

It's the rest of the world he should be worrying about.


	3. There Are No Small Cases

Challenge: Music

Warning: none

* * *

There Are No Small Cases, Just Small Psychics (And Gusters)

-

"We've got a case!" Shawn said brightly, meeting Gus at the door of the Psych office with a pineapple smoothie held out.

Gus eyed it dubiously, sensing a bribe. "From the department?" he asked.

"This is more of a…freelance job," Shawn said.

Gus grabbed the smoothie from Shawn, and sucked a quarter of it down. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?"

Shawn pulled a flier from his back pocket and held it up with a Vanna White air. "This!" he said.

Gus frowned as he read it. "You've got to be kidding me," he said.

"What? Gus, this is important!" Shawn said. "There's a little girl out there that needs us!"

"It's a flier for a missing music box, Shawn," Gus snapped.

"Yes! But I don't think it's missing. I think it was stolen!" Shawn said. "And look, Gus, there's a reward!

"It's a $10.00 reward," Gus said with disbelief.

"Ashley Tanner is in the fifth grade, she probably doesn't have a lot of disposable income," Shawn said. "I know what that's like. Back when I lost my limited edition Koala Beanie Baby, I only had enough money to offer a $7.00 reward!"

"You weren't a kid when that happened," Gus said. "That was two weeks ago."

"So you see my point," Shawn said.

"No, I don't," Gus said.

"Well, for one, obviously I could use the $10.00," Shawn said. "But my point is that it isn't about the money! We need to find this music box for the little girl. It was a present from her grandmother! It's all she has left of her!"

Gus frowned, and glanced at the flier again. The picture was of the little girl holding the box, smiling wide. The flier had been written with marker and copied black and white. Gus felt instantly guilty.

"Come on, you know you want to take the case!" Shawn said. "She took her music box to school for show and tell, and someone stole it, can you believe it? It's injustice! Fighting against injustice! It's kinda our thing."

Gus frowned, and downed another quarter of the smoothie before nodding. "Okay, what have you got?" he asked.

"Well, she just started the fifth grade, but everyone hates the teacher, Mr. McCruddy. And Davis is in love with Jillian, but he gave a promise ring to Samantha—"

"About the case, Shawn, if you can call this one," Gus snapped.

"That a music box is missing is pretty much all I've got at this point," Shawn said.

Gus sighed. "Well, how did you find out all the rest of it?" he asked. "Have you spoken with Ashley?"

"No, I visited her MySpace page, she put it on the flier," Shawn said. "It's incredible how sophisticated eleven year-olds are these days. They used all these words I've never even heard of. Nimby. Wiifm. Afaik. It's like they're bilingual."

"That's webspeak, Shawn," Gus said. "Not in my back yard. What's in it for me? As far as I know."

"You should be ashamed of yourself for knowing that," Shawn said. "Or Ysbaoyfkt, if you prefer."

Gus looked closer at the music box. "You know, this looks valuable," he said. "I bet a music box this old is probably worth a pretty penny."

"I should hope it's worth more than that. Even pretty pennies are only worth a cent," Shawn said.

Gus ignored him, sitting at his laptop and starting a google search. One of the first results to come up was a series of eBay auctions. Gus pulled them up to glance through them and whistled. "Look at this, this music box looks like it's from the same era," he said. "No wonder that music box was stolen. This one is some kind of antique. It's selling for like $500.00."

Shawn leaned over his shoulder and frowned. "That's not just similar, Gus, that's the same one!" he said. "Look at the chip on the corner, and the little ballerina's dress is torn in just the same spot." Shawn glanced over to the auction information. The user name was mccuddybuddy and the item location was Santa Barbara, CA, United States.

"I know who it is," Shawn said. "Can you like, hack into the internet and find out where he lives?"

"Who do you think I am? Alec Hardison?" Gus snapped.

"I have no idea who that is," Shawn said. "Did that mean you can do it or you can't?"

"That meant I can't do it, Shawn," Gus said. "I can, however, look him up in the White Pages online if you give me a name."

"McCuddy," Shawn said. "Or as the kids like to call him, McCruddy. It's the teacher."

"Got it," Gus said. "There's only one McCuddy in Santa Barbara, and he's listed."

"I'll call Lassie," Shawn said, pressing his Lassie speed-dial. "Hallo, detective? This here's a concerned cit-zen, and there's something mighty suspicious going on—oh fine, yes, it's me. Caller ID has ruined everything. Meet us at 201 Bensen Street. We've got a bust for you."

x x x x x x

Shawn and Gus were leaning against the Echo when Lassiter pulled up and walked over to join them.

"Did you get a warrant?" Shawn asked.

"For the elementary school teacher?" Lassiter said. "I had this guy checked before I came here. He's squeaky clean. So no, I didn't get a warrant."

"What about backup?" Shawn asked. "Where's Jules? Where's SWAT? Where's the helicopter?"

"Why don't you just tell me what this is about?" Lassiter demanded. "What's this guy even done?"

"He stole a little girl's music box," Gus told him.

"And he's trying to sell it on eBay!" Shawn said quickly. "I know you're probably—"

Lassiter was glaring, and Shawn broke off, expecting him to go into a rant about wasting his time. Instead he turned his glare towards the house. "What kind of scumbag steals a music box from a little girl?" Lassiter snapped, stomping off towards the door.

"That's it! You go get 'em, Lassie!" Shawn encouraged. "Are you going to pull out your gun? Do you want us to back you up? We don't have guns but we've been taking kickboxing, so you don't have to worry about a thing. We've got you covered."

"You took one class, Shawn," Gus said. "And you left fifteen minutes in when you heard the ice cream truck go by."

"I only needed fifteen minutes," Shawn protested. "How hard is it to kick? I can kick in my sleep."

"That's true," Gus said. "You nearly broke one of my ribs when we had that sleepover in third grade."

"You're just never going to let that go, are you?" Shawn asked.

"You know I have a low bone density, Shawn!" Gus snapped.

"Boys!" Lassiter snapped. "Shut up."

Lassiter knocked on the door. A middle-aged man pulled open the door with a glare on his face to match Lassiter's. He looked more like he was old man Gorton than an elementary school teacher. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"We're here about a missing music box," Lassiter said, flashing his badge. "I don't suppose you would know anything about that?"

"Of course not," he snapped.

"I hear Schubert!" Gus said. "Serenade! That's what plays in Ashley's music box!"

Lassiter glared at McCuddy. "I'm going to ask you again," he said.

"You're going to want to tell the truth this time," Shawn added. "Because we saw your auction on eBay! And for the record, mccuddybuddy is an awful username."

McCuddy sighed. "Oh, fine, so I took the damn music box. It's worth a good bit, and that kid was going to ruin it anyway. She won't miss it."

Shawn held out the flier. "That's where you're wrong, McCuddybuddy. Book 'em, Lassie."

Lassiter rolled his eyes but pulled out his cuffs. "You're under arrest," he said.

x x x x x x

Shawn was sitting at Lassiter's desk, head resting on his arms, while Gus examined the music box. Lassiter was across the room, fingerprinting a surly McCuddy.

"He's probably just going to get community service and probation," Gus said. "I doubt the district attorney is going to make too much of something like this."

"Stop talking like you're auditioning for Law and Order," Shawn told him.

"My music box!" Ashley Tanner ran towards them, breaking away from her parents. "You found it!"

Gus handed it over with a smile. "Here you go," he said.

"I always suspected Mr. McCruddy was up to no good," Ashley confided, "but no one would listen." She held the music box close and grinned at them. "How did you find it?"

"We saw your flier," Gus started.

Shawn stood, and moved around the desk, smoothly interrupting. "Actually, I'm a psychic," he said. "I was drawn, psychically, to the music box, by the sound of music. It was almost as though the hills were alive with it."

Ashley reached into her pocket, and pulled out two crumpled five-dollar bills. "This is for you," she said, handing one to Gus, "and this is for you," she said, handing the other to Shawn. She reached out and hugged them tight. "T-Y-V-M!"

Ashley pulled away and ran back to her parents, opening the box to play the music as she skipped off. Shawn turned to Gus. "Tyvm?"

"Thank you very much," Gus translated.

"Y-W!" he called after Ashley, before holding out his five-dollar bill with a grin. "Just enough for an ice cream," he said. "What do you say?"

"Y-K-T-R," Gus said.


End file.
